


Medicinal

by sabinelagrande



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Body Hair, Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Uncircumcised Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Well, that's one way to get rid of a headache.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	Medicinal

Newt's head is throbbing.

It's not a migraine, he doesn't think; he's not even really sure what a migraine feels like, but it feels like it could be worse, so it's probably not a migraine. It mostly just makes him want to lie down in a quiet place and keep his eyes shut. Thus, that is what he's doing, having changed into a t-shirt and a pair of worn sleep pants, laying on top of the duvet on his and Anathema's bed.

He only opens his eyes when he feels the creaky bed dip beside him; he opens one eye and peers up at Anathema. "Under the weather?" she says, as he blinks. She puts the back of her hand to his forehead. "You don't feel hot."

"Just a headache," he says, trying to smile, which he thinks comes out pretty wan.

"Would a blowjob make you feel better?" she asks.

Newt freezes. Anathema is still waiting for a response; she has a strange sense of humor, but she's giving no signs that this is a joke.

"I wouldn't want to impose," Newt says.

"Nah," Anathema says, getting on top of him and kissing him sweetly. "You just look all miserable. It'll cheer you up."

"If you insist," Newt says, as Anathema rucks up his shirt, running her hands up the flat of his belly and over his chest. She moves downwards, rearranging them so that she's kneeling between his legs. "Do you really want to? I don't want to put you out."

"You think too much," Anathema says, lifting the waistband of his sleep pants; his cock is already growing hard, despite any polite half-protests he might be making. She smooths her hand up the line of it in his boxers, and Newt gasps. "Just relax. I've got this."

She pulls down his underwear, getting it out of her way so she can stroke his cock. She does it slowly, her grip firm around him, and Newt arches towards her touch. Anathema is extraordinary; he's known that since the first moment he met her, and she only proves it more over time.

"I like how easy you are," Anathema says teasingly; he's never been teased before in a pleasurable way, and it turns out teasing is fun when it's sexy.

"For you, always," Newt says. He bites his lip as she bends forward, laying kisses up his cock until she reaches the head. She runs her tongue around it before pulling back, stroking him again, drawing his foreskin up over the head and making Newt groan. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this without more teasing, but right now he loves it.

She keeps toying with him, licking and stroking until Newt's whole body feels sensitized. He's ready to beg by the time she takes pity on him, closing her lips around the head of his cock. He watches raptly, unable to take his eyes off her, the sight of her mouth moving on him. It feels so good, but it feels better that it's her, whom he loves so much. She could do anything and he would love it, and it means a lot to him that she'll even do this, take the time and consideration for him that he still doesn't know if he deserves.

She pulls away, and Newt makes a bereft noise. "Do you like that?" Anathema says, mischief in her eyes.

Newt knows his answer is important. If he gives her the right one, she's going to keep going; if his answer is less than satisfactory, she's going to tease him for another twenty minutes.

"Oh yes, please, don't stop," he says, because begging is always the answer. "Your mouth, um, on me, it's very good, please do more of it."

"We're going to have to get you elocution lessons," Anathema says, before dragging her tongue up his shaft.

"You make it hard to think," he says.

"I want to make you forget your own name," she says, licking him again.

"That would be fine," he says quickly.

"You're lucky I love you so much," Anathema says, but she has that little blushy smile that Newt has come to recognize. He runs his knuckle over her cheekbone, and she smiles more.

That's the last of the sappiness she allows, because she's back to business, lapping at the head of his cock for a moment before taking him down again. Newt puts a hand on her shoulder, his head going back on the pillow as she pleasures him. She's doing it a bit faster now, with more purpose, and Newt just gives in to it, like he does with so many things. Anathema will have her own way, and whatever way that is, Newt will follow.

It's an age before he finally gets to the edge, Anathema working quickly on him now; he looks down at her, panting, still not really believing that it's happening. He's so close, right on the verge, and then she looks up at him, making eye contact like she's daring him not to come, and he loses it, spending in her mouth.

Newt is still collapsed on the bed when she comes up to lay beside him. "How's your headache?" she asks.

"What headache?" Newt says, frowning.

"Told you," Anathema says, pleased with herself.

Newt turns towards her, a hand on her stomach. "Would you let me return the favor?"

"Get over here," she says, pulling him to her and kissing him hard.

When she turns him loose, it's his turn to get into position. She's still dressed and making no effort to undress, but he is too, so he figures this is just that kind of thing. The skirt she's wearing isn't as tight as some of the ones she wears, which is good, and underneath it she's got on practical garters attached to practical wool stockings and covered practically with impractical underwear. Newt doesn't know whether she wears it for his benefit or just as her little secret, but either way, he enjoys it, though the best part is getting it off of her.

With them out of the way, she's bare before him, and Newt licks his lips without thinking about it. In the winter, she doesn't shave, and he runs his fingers through the patch of hair between her legs, parting it so that he can lean in and lick her clit. She doesn't like it when he fucks around about it; she loves it when the shoe is on the other foot, but she can't take all that teasing that she doles out. Newt doesn't feel like he's missing anything. He's no good at teasing, and the alternative is so much better.

Apparently she did like what she did for him, because she's already wet, and he runs his tongue through it, enjoying the taste. He runs his thumb over her for a moment before pressing in with one finger. He has big hands, and Anathema loves it, his fingers thick enough to be satisfying, hitting the right spot; he has been informed that this is a very rare knack that he is required to cultivate, and he's perfectly okay with that.

Anathema's hips buck up as he adds another finger; he doesn't stop, rocking his fingers and sucking her clit into his mouth. From the way she's moving, it won't take much more, and Newt would dearly like to see her come apart for him, so he can know that she wants him like he wants her, so that he can know that he's pleasing her like she pleases him.

There are fingers digging into the back of his scalp and Newt doesn't try not to be pleased; she's stabbing him with her fingernails a bit, but that means she's very close. He moves his fingers faster, his mouth working on her clit, and she lets out a groan, grinding herself against his tongue as it moves through her.

When she's recovered a bit, Newt lays down next to her again. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek. "Thank you, dear," she says.

"Oh, it was really no trouble," he says, grinning at her. "Not a bad way to spend an afternoon."

"Just think," she says. "We haven't even gotten started on the night."


End file.
